


Missing Something

by Twisted_Fate_MK2



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Jaune visits the parents, Not how he'd have liked to though, Wrote to get the idea gone, sads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:53:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Fate_MK2/pseuds/Twisted_Fate_MK2
Summary: Jaune goes to visit Pyrrha's parents when they get to Mistral.





	Missing Something

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“Are you, you know…” Ruby paused, leaning on the door to the hotel they were staying at until Qrow came to and found something better for them. Her arms were crossed, and she was giving him that knowing, sad, and oh-so-concerned face. The same one as after she pulled him aside, that morning when they were travelling, and asked about his training at night. “You don’t have to go all by yourself, you know? I can go with you.”

“You have to take care of your uncle.” Jaune said simply, shaking his head and taking a long breath. He owed the man, even in as much pain as he was while the poison ran its course and his medicine and Aura fought it, when Jaune came to ask him for help, he’d done more than the young Knight had hoped. “He found their address for me, even got me some Lien and nice clothes to get there, I… He needs you more.”

“He’d be fine for a day.” She sighed, though, when she saw his opinion to that, her eyes rolling at the way his jaw set and eyes hardened when he made up his mind. They’d traveled together long enough for her to understand him, which itself was a comfort. “Ren and Nora?”

“They… Have their own problems.” Especially after Kuroyuri, and the revelations that brought. He hadn’t even known the pain Ren and Nora were in, too focused on his own, and now… “I am not going to get them dragged into this. And besides, they weren’t… involved, in what happened to Pyrrha.”

“And how ‘involved’ were you that they weren’t?” He could have said he was there when Amber was killed, but both knew that wasn’t what she - or he - meant by the word. When he didn’t say anything, Ruby surprised him, growling, “Dust damn it, Jaune… Are you serious right now?”

“I’m going, Ruby.” He said, half-turning from the door in the direction of a bus-stop down the way and sliding a hand into the light suit he wore, a hand ghosting across the heavy belt around his waist, Crocea Mors hanging off the opposite side of his body. Her sash, or what he’d recovered of it, was folded neatly in an envelope in that pocket, and he thumbed it gently. “This is my duty, as her partner and as her friend, and for… So much more than that. I didn’t even want to tell Qrow about it.”

“Idiot…” He was surprised when she slammed into his chest, arms wrapping around his chest gently and her face pressing against his side. He hesitated a moment, gently laying his shield-hand on her shoulder, and she said, “You’re an idiot… A massive, blonde, moron, and I just… Can’t believe you sometimes.”

“Ruby…?” He was confused, but she shook her head and pulled away, turning her back as she walked up the steps towards the hotel’s door. 

“Five this evening. Havin’ pizza, and if you’re still out on your own, I’ll tell Nora and send her to get ya~!” She said, not turning to him but waving a hand goodbye, voice its usual sing-song of cheer. False cheer, he could tell, but he didn’t call her on it.

The hug had been nice, a comfort even, and he wouldn’t sour that with a hypocritical argument with her about her forcing a smile on her face. Even if it sapped something from her words, and the hug, that he couldn’t place. Like a picture of a smiling family, strained and forced, in front of a funeral home.

Instead, without another word, he turned and began to make his way through Mistral’s inner Kingdom. Where the great city lay, and where they were staying, surrounded on all sides by naturally protective mountains that themselves bore reinforcement and structures to further their already natural protectiveness. The same blimp-like craft drifted through the sky, along with similar craft of the same kind in every shape, size and purpose. Faster, probably Atlesian judging by the streaks of white and silver, craft zipped along around them carefully, carrying people to and from their jobs high above the massive city. 

The road he walked along was sparsely crowded but beautiful, with marble stone pathing and dark asphalt to contrast it beautifully and make the colors of the buildings and flags all pop magnificently, and what crowds there were took one look at his suit and sword and parted around him like water around a rock. The black suit and gloves, according to the tailor, were traditional Mistralian wear that marked him as one of two things - a mourner himself, or a bearer of mourning news, or maybe both. And with his sword hanging off his waist - Qrow’s advice, let them see who he was without having to ask - everyone knew who he was and what he was doing. A Huntsman, mourning or carrying bad news. 

And no one was stupid enough to need to ask what that would probably be. Not in Mistral, of all places, and not in the world they lived in. 

It was awe inspiring, truly, and he knew that even as he looked around at the happy and busy people, the immaculate buildings, and the beautiful surroundings of this city. And yet, even among the happy people and their happy lives and their happy existence, something felt… Wrong. Cold, and absent, and he was left to wonder what that could be as he boarded a small platform and rose into the air slowly, taking a seat in the transport-blimp when it finished its climb. 

The journey was quick, the buses taking direct air-routes to their stops at a quick enough pace. Inside an hour, he’d crossed the city to the truly affluent part of town. Here, homes were large manors with grounds to spare and gardens, with high walls of carved stone and brick and set with iron spikes, fences and other decorative pieces at the tops. Great gates, tall, lush trees that hung over the paths between the properties, and all the trappings of the ludicrously wealthy were on display at every turn.

Jaune was unimpressed.

The Nikos residence was easy to find with Qrow’s instructions, smaller than the others with the house pushed up towards the road and a large swathe of tall, green trees behind it. A small path led from an open gate to the door, and it wasn't until he reached that door that he hesitated. It wasn’t why he was here that daunted him, though. No, he was more than ready and set in why he'd come here. It was the happy laughter he heard inside, a woman’s, bright and lilting happily. Familiar, like an echo of his past.

An echo of his partner. 

Raising his fist and taking a breath, he rapped his knuckle against the door once, and then a second time, and heard the bright call of, “Coming, just a minute, please!” The door opened, and a middle-aged woman with red hair and soft, green eyes, like a mirror of Pyrrha but older, answered the door. Her smile fell as soon as she saw him, eyes searching him, and then meeting his face and narrowing, “J-Johnathan! Come here, honey!”

“Why? What’s wrong, Macy?” A voice inside called worriedly, a tall man with dark hair and eyes and tanned skin, flecks of gray in his hair and wrinkles beginning to break across his forehead. His eyes narrowed when he saw Jaune, or what he was wearing more accurately, and he demanded, “Who are you, and why are you here?”

“I’m Jaune. Jaune Arc, of team Juniper, from Beacon. I was-”

“Oh Gods, please, not Pyrrha…” The woman whispered, and she would have fallen as she staggered back and tripped on her husband if the man hadn’t grabbed her shoulders. Her voice cracked when she spoke, “When we saw what happened on Amity, a-and the CCT went down, I… She can’t be dead.”

“I’m sorry, I… She died to try and buy us time. Sent me away, and… And attacked the woman responsible for the Fall of Beacon on her own.” He said, voice hoarse and throat suddenly dry and tight. He wanted to look away from the woman as the dam broke and the tears started to fall and her face screwed up in pain, but he forced himself to look. 

Forced himself to own that.

“Macy, it’s okay.” The man lied, to all their ears, and pulled her in for a hug. The woman collapsed against him, clutching at his light jacket, and he pulled her with him as he stepped back and looked at Jaune, “Come inside.”

He nodded at the demand, because it was not an invitation, and stepped into the home. Spartan as it was, it was still beautiful in its own right, but he didn’t pay it any mind and followed the man to the side and into a sitting room. They sat on the couch and Jaune sat opposite them on a dark cloth chair, staring at the dark coffee table in silence while the woman cried into the man’s chest. 

“How did she die?” The woman, Macy, asked after a minute or two of their sitting there, “I want the details.”

“I wasn’t there.” He warned, grimacing at that fact and sighing. The woman didn’t answer, or the man, so he spoke, explaining everything he knew, down to the moment Ruby had scaled Tower, “She was hurt, on her knees, and Ruby saw the woman fire one arrow into her…” he choked, fingers balled at his sides until they ached, and he let out a breath, “Into her heart, and she died, turned to ashes by the other woman’s Semblance.”

The room fell quiet after his story, even Macy not making a sound, until she rose and looked at him, “You were her partner?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He answered, straightening and feeling the ache in his forehead of tears restrained too long. “And I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there, I didn’t-”

“Shush.” She said, stepping around the table and leaning down, wrapping trembling arms around his shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. His hands, trembling, came up to her sides hesitantly and she spoke into his ear, “Pyrrha died for you, not because of you, understand? It hurts, Gods it hurts, but… I see you shaking, you know. Like a leaf. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

“I-I… I don’t....” He choked, and then the man was on his other side, a hand on his shoulder and a thin, pained smile of sympathy offered, and Jaune broke down finally and screamed his anguish. In a moment, the woman matched him, and they cried together for a long time. 

An hour later, cried out and drinking tea, Jaune walked with the man while Macy rested in their bedroom upstairs somewhere. The halls were carpeted, and the walls were lined with weapons and plaques with names. A hall of memorial,filled with the arms of the lost and honored of the Nikos line. And now, missing Pyrrha's own contribution, thanks to Cinder.

“Her armor and weapons were destroyed, weren’t they?” The man asked quietly, looking at a bare spot at the end of the hall, where the weapons were the most modern and youngest looking. “You said she was turned to ash, after all.”

“All that was left were scraps.” Jaune answered, “resting a hand on Crocea Mors and running a thumb along the gold at the hilt. “Piece of a greave, I think. I used it to accent my weapon, as a way of memorializing her.”

“Valean tradition.” The other man nodded, understanding laced through his voice as his hand came to rest on Jaune’s shoulder. “Carry her well, Jaune Arc. I hope she can find peace in knowing that she still saves lives, even when hers is lost.”

He reached into his pocket and drew forth the envelope, holding it out to him, “S-Some of her sash, it’s the only other thing I could find before Beacon was too overrun to look. Not the whole thing, but-”

“Keep it.” The man said simply, cutting him off with a gentle smile, even if his eyes betrayed how much it hurt to say that. Looking at the wall, at Pyrrha’s spot, he sighed, “We’ll have a portrait of her done in memoriam and hung. The best we have, even if it feels likes…”

“Like it’ll be missing something.” Jaune filled in, the man nodding and clapping him on the shoulder before turning and leaving him alone to see himself out. Again, Jaune ran his thumb along the gold of Crocea Mors’ hilt, and repeated, “Missing something… Yeah, that’s how it feels. I’m missing something I can’t replace.”

But, thinking of Pyrrha’s smile and his team and friends, he knew he’d survive. For her, if nothing else, and for them even if that failed as a reason. He’d persevere, for her.

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Just a little idea I had in my idea, for something bittersweet and kinda sad but with that warm nugget of comfort at the center. Hope you all liked it. 

~ Twisted


End file.
